


The Girl in Red Boots

by Dysphorite



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Lifeguards, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dysphorite/pseuds/Dysphorite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones is living a normal life on the South coast as a lifeguard until his interest is irrevocably ensnared by a woman who has just moved to the small sea side village by the cliffs. </p><p>Short au ficlet that WILL be followed up by a sequel</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl in Red Boots

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this guys, it's just a short au ficlet but I may write a sequel to it if I have the time, I have an idea for it so ^_^

They had met 10 years ago, when she moved to the stormy shore of the South coast where he worked as a lifeguard. It was late Spring, one of the finer days where the sky was a fair blue and only a light mist of rain covered the shore. He was watching her from the moment she had taken her first steps on the small beach, enclosed by the cliffs where he was stationed in a hut a little above the beach. She was dressed warmly, a dark black pea coat was buttoned snugly around her curved form over black jeans, a thick red scarf was bound around her neck, blowing slightly in the wind, and a black beanie was pulled around the flowing length of her beautiful golden hair. And on her feet were a pair of vivid red wellington boots that she kicked the pools of water on the beach with, carefree as if she felt no eyes watching her. Her sense of style amused him, he had felt a smirk tugging at his lips from the moment she walked onto the beach wearing those damned boots that she seemed to love so much. She had wandered happily on the empty beach, free from the tourists that flocked there in the warmer months, the cold weather warding them off, until she came to stop before a large damp rock. He watched in trepidation, biting his lip, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in worry as she climbed the slippery rock until she came to perch happily at its apex, her back to the cliffs, watching out onto the sea, one hand clutching her hat, the other playing with some sort of necklace under the folds of her scarf. She smiled, and he felt his breath leave him. He knew he was screwed from the beginning. He continued to watch her as she sat for a hour more taking in the brusque sea breeze, inhaling it deeply into her lungs and sighing. Because there was no one else on the beach he had little reason to draw his gaze from her, he was thankful that none of his colleagues were on duty today because he surely looked like a smitten idiot with his head rested on hand, his elbow propped up on the desk as he watched her. Which is why he was the first to see it. She still sat calmly on the rock, no sign of any pending trouble, she tore her gaze from the sea to reach for something in her pocket, fumbling for it, which is why she didn't see it. Suddenly, with no warning a large crashing, powerful wave soared up to the corner of the shore where she perched. He lost sight of her for a split second as the wave engulfed her, crashing in a spray of white against the cliff and she was whisked into the depths of the ruthless sea. It was abnormal for such a comparatively small wave to cause him such a rush of raw emotion and never had he leapt into action more swiftly. In seconds he had flown from the lifeguards hut, grabbing his board as he went, and charged onto the beach and straight into the freezing sea. Not blinking twice as he threw himself onto his body-board and swam faster than he ever had out to sea. He stopped for a brief moment to scan the ocean for her and his eye was caught by a familiar sight of golden curls, now soaked to the core. He dived off of his board, ensuring the strap was tied securely around his wrist, and tore to her floating body, struggling against the tide. In seconds he was with her, grabbing her by the waist, feeling his chest tighten and heart beat wildly as he did, and hauled her up onto the board. He watched, terrified as she coughed up a lung of salt water and he swore he didn't breathe from the moment the wave approached to when she finally finished coughing and met his anxious gaze, seeing her exquisite emerald eyes filled with fear and tears.

“There you are love, get the sea out of your lungs” his words were jaunty but his tone was flat and serious, filled with anxiety, and his jaw set in worry as he reached up from treading water and patted her back, she coughed a bit more and finally sighed.

“Th-thank you.” she stammered from the fear of being swept away by the sudden wave and the freezing temperature of the water that chilled her to her core, and clung to her soaked clothes, she was truly shaken, “You- You s-saved me” she breathed, staring at him in wonder.

“Aye, well let's get you back to dry land” he smiled with relief at her, grabbed a side of the board and began to swim, strong against the current, to the shore with her still collapsed on the board. She made to sit up, pushing against the board precariously with her arms, finding her weight heavy she fell in defeat onto her side, facing the man who just saved her, “What's your name, love?” he asked, briefly catching her gaze from his determined diving towards the beach.

“S-swan. Emma Swan”

“Killian Jones. Lifeguard”

“Th-thank you, again, K-Killian. If y-you hadn't b-been there...” she stuttered, shivering from the cold that made him swim all the more harder.

“Aye. But let's not think about that” More to the point, he couldn't think about that. The possibility that he didn't save her was unthinkable. The mere idea ripped his heart in two. She must have sensed his anguish, for that moment she rested a shivering, death-pale hand over where his gripped the board tightly with white knuckles.

“You saved me Killian... I'm not going to forget that” she whispered, curling her body inwards, quaking with the shivers of cold and in a beautiful, innocent sign of affection and gratitude, she met his knuckles with her jittering, blue lips. His breath stopped for the third time that day, warmth against all spreading like fire from the contact of her freezing lips against his cool, damp hand. He could feel his cheeks begin to redden but he looked in horror to see she was in not state to see it, she was losing consciousness, lying there, shaking on the board. If he wasn't quick, Hypothermia would set in. He needed to keep her awake, he needed to keep her talking.

“Well Emma, if I may, you've had quite the adventure this morning. How did you come to be on the beach this morning?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and purely inquisitive and failing, his face set like stone.

“I- I er. I wanted to- w-wanted t-to... think...” she vaguely replied, voice weak and barely audible.

“Think? Think about what, Love?” Killian urged, desperate to keep her awake but she was sagging, being dragged from the world, “Come on Emma, stay awake. Stay with me!”

By pure strength of will Killian gained the shallows, hauling Emma from the board and wading as fast as he could through the heavy, cold shore of the sea, letting the board drag behind him. Once he reached the sand, he quickly ripped the strap of the board from his wrist so it wouldn't slow him down (he could go back for it later) and tore straight past the lifeguard hut and up the cliffs to the right beyond the hut, Emma weightless in his arms, him begging her to awaken, calling her name as he reached and opened the door with his elbow, thanking every god that he hadn't locked his door today. He carefully laid her body down on his sofa before turning from her briefly to light the fire in the fireplace parallel to the sofa, desperate to keep her warm, glad for once that his small cottage was achingly old-fashioned. Once the fire was good and roaring, he knelt back by her side, expression to torn, calling to her.

“Emma! Emma! Swan! _Come back to me, Swan!”_ he urged her, shook her, and at last, her eyes flicked blearily open and head turning slowly to look at Killian, who huffed heavily in relief.

“K-Killian?” she questioned in confusion.

“Aye, Love. I'm right here” he reached out and squeezed her pale hand at her side.

“Where... where a-am I?”

“You're at my house, Emma” he replied, thankful to hear the stutters and shivers slowly freeing from her voice, though they wouldn't for much longer if she didn't get out of those clothes. The harmless thought flooded Killian with a brand new and blindingly contrasting emotion that he just couldn't embark upon indulging at present, slightly disgusted with himself for thinking such a thing in the present situation, “I knew it was close and thought it would cater to your present needs more adequately than the small, sparingly furnished lifeguard hut”

Her mouth formed an o and rested back on the pillows, before her eyes widened suddenly in alarm once more as her free hand felt the damp sofa beneath her.

“Y-your sofa! I'm ruining it!” she shouted, distressed.

“Think nothing of it Love” he reassured.

“Are- are you sure?”

“Of course. It will dry, whilst you, you're far more important” he squeezed her hand again, and for the first time he saw a faint rush of colour spread through her icy cheeks, rouge slowly returning to her blue tinged lips. At the sight of which he remembered her light kiss on his hand and a blush soon rose to his cheeks as he gazed at her in seriousness, his firm gaze meeting her confused and startled one, “Well Love, you need to get out of those wet clothes” he stated, rising from his kneeling and disappearing momentarily from the room and into a door beyond the fireplace, so that he didn't catch the sudden full rush of red in Emma's cheeks, returning with a pile of dry clothes, “Here you are, they'll be far too large for you but they are dry” he smiled reassuringly at her as she sat cautiously up. Dropping the pile of clothes onto the side of the sofa, he continued on to a door sitting beneath an open staircase. He stopped, facing Emma, and cracked open the door, revealing a white, clean bathroom, “I offer you my shower, take as long as you need Emma. I'll be in the kitchen when you're done” and with that, he walked over to her, offering her his hand in aid of her rising, which she took and stood. He stretched an arm to pick up the clothes and put them into her free arm, then escorted her to the door of the bathroom. All the while she rested her weight, weak from the cold, on his arm. Then, with a nod, he departed at her smile as she leant on the door frame then each disappeared, her into the bathroom, him into the kitchen.

Emma felt strange, and not because she had just had a near death experience or because she ran the risk of getting hypothermia, or even because this man just saved her life. She felt strange because she instantly, inexplicably trusted him. From the moment she opened her eyes and saw him. And somehow, she knew it wasn't just because he had saved her, and carried her all the way here, to his own home. No, she felt it had everything to do with the way he had desperately shouted her name when she had awoken on his sofa, how she felt her heart beat wildly against her rib cage and he squeezed her hand, how she felt warmth spread through her each time he smiled at her, even when she was frozen and dripping with ice cold water to her very core. She quickly showered, savouring the delightful, steaming water, and then, emerging from the shower fully refreshed and significantly warmer, dressed in the clothes he had given for her. Not even bothering to fight the urge to cling the soft fabric of the shirt close to her face and inhale the scent of him. Sea breeze, honey and mint. She was about to exit when she saw a note he had pushed under the door.

 

_Emma,_

_Put your wet clothes in the washing machine_  
_beside the sink and then give them a whirl in_  
_it, then come and meet me in the kitchen._

_Killian_

 

She smiled to herself, did as he bid and then opened the door to the bathroom. Walking out and through a doorway to the left, which she guessed led to the kitchen. She opened the door and entered, met with the sight of Killian, who had also dried up and changed, now dressed not in his soaking wet, vivid yellow and red lifeguard uniform, but in a loose pair of black skinny jeans and a grey, also loose, v-neck shirt, hair ruffled from being towel dried, leaning against the counter, stirring a mug of steaming liquid. Emma inhaled the sweet scent of hot chocolate and... cinnamon? She furrowed her brow and walked over to where he stood to have him, grinning, thrust one mug of the liquid into her hands and pick up another himself. She looked down into the mug to see it had mounds of white cream swirled with a sprinkling of light brown dust on the top, she sniffed, cinnamon. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Cinnamon?” she asked suspiciously.

“Aye, er, sorry I should have asked, it's one of my... strange quirks I guess” he looked away in embarrassment, heat rising to his cheeks as he raised the mug to his mouth and took a sip, using the mug to hide his face.

Emma raised her eyebrows, nursing the mug in her hands for a moment, before rising it to her own mouth and taking a sip, finding the taste delightful and savouring the flavour as she felt the warmth flush through her.

“No. No, I love it!” she said with child like glee which made him grin stupidly again. He looked at her dancing eyes and chuckled slightly to himself before moving closer. Even with the mugs creating an obstacle between them, Emma felt her breath leave her and her heart to pound, butterflies dancing in her stomach as he drew closed and reached a hand out to... brush her nose?

“You had er... cream on your nose” he said breathlessly, half with amusement that arose when she lowered the mug from her face and he saw a bit of cream marking the tip of her adorable little nose, and half with the flush of emotion that being in so close a proximity to her and provoked in him. He began to step back again.

“Oh, er thank you” she said quietly, embarrassed about having cream on her nose without even noticing. She continued to watch him, heart still beating erratically, as he moved backwards, reaching a hand behind him to lean once more on the counter there. She watched as he shifted his weight, hand ready to meet the surface of the counter, and missed it for a mile. He fell to the floor, back half slouched against the counter with a thud, hot chocolate spilling all over him and cursing under his breath. Emma had to fight to not burst out into laughter... and failed.

“Oh- Oh my god” she said through the laughs, “Are you okay?” she put down her mug and reached a hand down to pull him up, which he took, but as he pulled she went down with him, landing clumsily on top of him. All laughter stopped for a moment as she pushed herself upwards onto her arms and found that she was sprawled right on top of him, her chest above his, her legs tangled with his and her face inches from his. Their eyes met for a moment, time stopped and both were lost, breathless in the others eyes, Emma finding his a gorgeous, blue much like the sea that he had just saved her from. It was all Killian could do to not close the distance and trap her lips in a kiss like no other, but he knew she had been through too much today to even consider doing such a thing. And from what he knew and guessed of her already, it would not be quite so simple as a kiss with her. But they both felt it, the sudden heat rising to their cheeks, the butterflies in their stomachs, the wild beating of their hearts. Emma was sure her's would burst from her chest, whilst Killian was worried that Emma would hear the pounding of his against his chest. For a moment they stayed there staring, before both collapsed in fits of laughter over eachother, eventually coming to sit, side by side against the counter, still fighting giggles.

“Wow” Emma sighed, chest full of laughter and something else she couldn't name yet, “Some day”

“Aye lass, I would wager it was” he turned his head to meet hers.

“I... I guess I should be getting home...”

“Aye... you should”

They both remained still, reluctant to move for a moment, before they arose and he walked her slowly to the door.

“What about your clothes?” she asked as he unhooked a warm jacket from a hook beside the door and pulled it snug around her, he knew she lived close by so he shouldn't be so worried about her getting cold on the way home but even so.

“I guess you'll have to call me” He smirked and moved away for a second and retrieved her red boots from behind the door by the radiator. Now dry, she was damned lucky they hadn't been swept away by the force of the sea when it took her.

“My boots!” her face was overtaken with a wide grin of unexpected delight which Killian relished in, “I had completely forgotten” she rested on hand on his shoulder for support as she tugged them on.

“I took them off when you were lying on the sofa, you were so cold you didn't even notice.” he said, a light jaunty tone suddenly darkening to one of deep set fear and worry, “Swan... You could have _died_ today, I could have lost you” he frowned, eyes looking downwards to his feet. When suddenly, for the second time that day, he felt the soft, warm brush of lips, against his cheek this time, and heat flared through his body as he raised his head in surprise to take in her serene smile contrasted with eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“But you didn't... You saved me Killian Jones” she uttered quietly under his breath, feeling heat again rise through her body, “Thank you”

And with that she walked out of the door and into the cool day. Killian stood there, held captive by her unexpected actions as his emotions wreaked havoc through his body, before staring in confusion and sudden panic. He was about to call out to her again when his hand felt something in his pocket, and eyes frowning he withdrew his hand to reveal a slip of paper with a message scrawled onto it which read.

 

_Killian,_

_Thank you for being there for me today,  
I don't know what I would have done without you._

_You're my saviour._

_Emma_

 

And beneath that was the unmistakable sight of a quickly scrawled phone number. He smiled incredulously, wondering how the woman had managed to write and slip the piece of paper in his pocket without him having a clue. Even though he knew it before, it was undeniable now, he was screwed. He felt warmth spread through his chest and a chuckle rising through him as he watched the girl in red boots walk away and into the mist of the cliffs.

 


End file.
